


Oblivion

by vvesninski



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Trans Neil Josten, it might take a while to get to the andreil but be patient Please i swear it will be good, lots of references to classical music, orchestra AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvesninski/pseuds/vvesninski
Summary: He wonders how it's possible that his identity has changed this much. From Natalia Wesninska, daughter of the Butcher of Baltimore, to Neil Josten, a college-level musician. He thinks that he likes it.





	1. Chapter 1

“Neil.” He looked up from his instrument case at the sound of his name. His fingers continued to loosen and tighten his violin bow repeatedly, a nervous habit he had picked up years ago and was yet to shake. Ellie, their orchestra’s lead cellist, stood nearby with a soft smile. “We’re on in ten minutes. Hernandez wants you by the stage door now.” Neil tried to hide the jolt of _something_ that passed through him - excitement, maybe, or just fear - he couldn’t tell, but she must have noticed him twitch, and kept talking. “We’ve been practicing this all year. There’s nothing that could go wrong. Come on, I don’t want to get yelled at in front of the whole orchestra.” Neil wondered briefly how she knew not to try to comfort him directly and spoke of the group performance rather than his own, but the thoughts fled his mind as he picked up his violin and made his way past the other waiting musicians to the front of the line, where their conductor George Hernandez stood.

“Josten,” he said shortly, and despite Ellie’s encouragement Neil felt a growing sense that something was indeed wrong. “You said you’d played the Piazzolla before, correct?” Neil knew immediately which piece he was referencing, though their programme for the night included two by the same composer. The violin solo. He used to perform it with his mother as a duet, rather than with a string orchestra accompaniment, when they busked in Europe.

“Yes, sir.”

“James’ E string snapped and we can’t get the new one to stay in tune. Will you do it?” Neil felt nothing but dread in the pit of his stomach. He was out of practice - they had left Europe behind several years ago, and he hadn’t held a tune alone since his mother had died. Not to mention it would involve drawing unnecessary attention to himself, which was always something to avoid, even though the likelihood of his father finding him here were slim as ever. But Neil couldn’t help himself. He lived for music, and what better place to allow himself take centre stage with a solo than Millport? He was confident that he could play it better than any of the other violinists, it would just be this one time, and this was such a small town that the gossip would have warned him if anyone suspicious had showed up. Still, every survival instinct Neil screamed as he said “yes, sir.”

Hernandez smiled, but his eyes betrayed his concern as he handed Neil his music. “All right. We won’t be changing the running order, so you’ll be up after the Brandenburg. Sit in your usual seat, and I’ll announce the change in soloists as you swap out and set your stand up.” Neil went back to stand by his desk partner, Josh. Neil hadn’t made any effort to interact with anyone when he joined Millport High’s orchestra - he was there to play music and hopefully stay safe for a while, not to make friends. This apparently suited Josh well, as they pair had barely spoken for the few months since Neil had arrived. Neil held his violin up as if to play and closed his eyes, remembering the way the Piazzolla felt under the pads of his fingers. He had the dots, of course, but he wasn’t sure he would need them. Neil knew how to read music, and he could sight read too, but his mother had always taught him by ear. Carrying around pages and pages of sheet music had become cumbersome, and they had preferred to busk without notes or stands, as they could easily be snatched by a passerby or blown away in the wind. For a moment, Neil allowed himself to get lost in his memories. He recalled passersby starting up an impromptu dance to his sharp polka in Krakow, being invited to join a British youth orchestra for a night of their tour in Barcelona, and the largest crowd they’d ever drawn by busking outside the cathedral in Cologne. He missed Europe, despite the increased danger of his mother’s family catching up to them there. Neil was more afraid of his father, anyway. He’d still gone by Natalia then, and had even worn dresses in the summer, although his bright, distinctive hair was cut short for convenience as much as anything else. It was dyed, too, and he always wore coloured contacts, but he didn’t mind those so much. Anything he could do to look less like his father was a positive change. Suddenly Neil’s binder felt tight and restrictive, his breathing shallow. He closed his eyes and focused on filling and emptying his lungs. _This is who I am now_ , he told himself. _This is the real Abram. Neil Josten_. Even as he thought it he knew he would have to give up this name, this place soon enough, but there was some comfort in knowing that his next fake ID would still list his gender as male.

“How’d you get Hernandez to pick you?” It took Neil a moment to realise that Josh was speaking to him - he barely even recognised who the voice belonged to.

“What?” he whispered back, because the door leading directly to the stage was open now, and he could hear the murmur of the audience through it.

“For the solo. James knows I can play it. Why you?” Neil remembered dimly that Josh and James were brothers, non-identical twins, and felt a pang of guilt or pity, but quashed it immediately. “I don’t know,” he said simply, and it was the truth. If Josh resented him for it, well, it couldn’t be helped.

The next few minutes passed a little too fast, and Hernandez shushed the group before dimming the lights in the hall where the audience sat. They quieted almost immediately, and Hernandez motioned for the cellists to lead out of the stage door. Neil’s heart was in his throat as he stepped out into the lights directed towards the stage, though he knew that nobody was really looking at him. At least, not yet.

Neil didn’t let himself so much as glance at the audience as he took his seat at the back of his section, and soon lost himself in the Brandenburg concerto. He enjoyed baroque music, and the sound of a full string orchestra surrounding him was a nice change from his violin-viola duets and a comforting sensation as he played, as well as a safety net for any badly tuned notes. The adagio movement allowed him no time to think about his upcoming solo, all quick quavers requiring swift fingers and his full concentration on the notes; any slip would leave him stranded and Josh wouldn’t be likely to point out where in the piece they were. But all too soon it was over, and the audience’s applause only added to the ringing in his ears. Hernandez sent Neil a pointed look as he turned around to address the audience, and Neil stood up mechanically to swap places with the girl at first desk. He didn’t know her name, couldn’t even remember whether they’d ever spoken before, but she sent him a reassuring smile as she made her way to the back. Neil could hear Hernandez’s words with a slight detachment as he adjusted his stand to his full height with shaking fingers. He wasn’t really listening, but as he heard his name he turned slightly so that he faced the audience more than Hernandez, bringing his stand around as well. It was a well ingrained instinct - he wasn’t used to following a conductor any more - and Hernandez seemed to accept it.

“Good luck, kid,” Neil heard him whisper as he lifted the baton to cue the cellists.

Neil found himself surprisingly calm as he began to play. He kept his eyes studiously on the music for a few bars, but soon found that the piece flowed from his fingers as effortlessly as it had years ago. He was hypnotised by his own notes, and felt his eyes closing as he played, not needing to acknowledge anything but the wood and metal under his fingers and the solid sound filling his ears, but Neil’s stature meant that he remained dimly aware of Hernandez’s musical directions beside him, as his arms moved at Neil’s eye level. He was playing with an orchestra now, after all, and although he was the soloist he wasn’t fully in charge. Having played in the accompaniment for the whole of the previous term, Neil knew how they played well; the swells and pauses, every dynamic change and glissando. His body moved in time with his bow strokes as he played, which was a habit he had tried to suppress since coming to Millport because he knew it seemed pretentious in an orchestra, but here it felt right. The music filled his body and soul, and he was more content than he could remember being in a long time.

Neil wanted to hold his last note on a moment longer, to hold onto the immense calm inside him, but as they ended the weight of the gazes of the whole audience descended on him and he suddenly felt very _visible_. Uncomfortably so. The audience were quiet for longer than he expected, or maybe time was just moving slower for him, but eventually they started clapping. He noticed one woman, with mousy brown hair and glasses, as she stood from the centre of the audience and applauded enthusiastically, although the concert was far from over. Neil tried to convince himself that she was nothing, no one, maybe just a keen violinist herself, but she was close enough that Neil could see something else in her eyes, and not being able to tell what it was worried him. A few others stood to applaud, following her lead, but none of them watched him like she did. He returned to his seat and tried not think about the woman, at least until the concert had finished.

Neil wanted to leave the hall as fast as he could, and all but sprinted to find his violin case as soon as he left the stage. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman from the audience was here for him, and from past experience that could never be a good thing. He had just placed his violin carefully back into its case when a hand lightly touched his shoulder, and Neil flinched visibly.

“It’s just me, kid.” Hernandez. Neil turned around slowly to face him, and found the brown haired woman standing just a few metres away. She was still smiling, and Neil didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, but he couldn’t run; there were still too many people around for a clear exit. He returned his gaze to Hernandez instead and tried to stop his hands from shaking.

“That was bloody good, Josten. I’ve never heard you play like that before,” Hernandez said gruffly, and Neil thought it might be the most praise he’d ever heard the man give. Hernandez motioned to the woman standing behind him. “This is Betsy, my sister in law. You might be interested in what she has to say.” _It’s now or never_ , Neil realised, _run_. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the leftover satisfaction he felt from the concert, but more likely, he realised, it was that he’d come to trust Hernandez. He’d let his guard down, but he honestly doubted that his conductor would betray him like this. At least, not knowingly.

The woman - Betsy - stepped forward with a smile. “Hello, Neil. I really enjoyed your performance today. You’re extremely talented, but I’m sure you’re already aware of that.” Neil was aware, but he didn’t say anything, even though Betsy paused expectantly. She hadn’t said enough to let him know how wary he needed to be of her, so he was still suspicious and poised to run, though not obviously, he hoped. “I work in the music department at Palmetto State University in South Carolina. George tells me that you’re in your last year of school, and as it turns out, we’re short a few violinists for our youth orchestra next year.” She paused again, but Neil wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say, so he just met her eyes and waited. “Are you considering attending college, Neil?” she asked.

“No,” Neil answered simply. She seemed disappointed at that, he thought, but there was no way he could go to college. Tethering himself to one place for that long was an impossible dream. In his head, he could hear his mother scolding him for even considering it. “Sorry,” he added as an afterthought, and went back to putting his instrument away.

Betsy and Hernandez moved away to speak in low voices, presumably about him, but Neil didn’t care or have time to eavesdrop on their conversation. He took his instrument and rucksack and left the hall. Most often he slept on the couch in the instrument cupboard; Hernandez knew about this, and apparently didn’t object to it, but he hadn’t given Neil a key either, so he had to pick the lock most nights. Today he headed back to the abandoned house where he had stayed before school had started, and more importantly, where he had left the possessions he couldn’t easily bring everywhere with him. Namely, his mother’s viola and his sleeping bag. It was high time to leave Millport behind - he’d stayed too long already, and although it was nearing the end of the school year, where he could disappear easily, the fact that someone from out of town had noticed and approached him was disconcerting.

Sneaking unnoticed into the house he’d appropriated would be difficult with his bag and violin, so Neil waited until it was dark. He had to find his way around and wash with little light, because there was no electricity to the house, and he wouldn’t have wanted to alert anyone to his presence even if there had been. Neil curled up in his sleeping bag fully clothed, barely remembering to take his binder off. He was intending to plan where he would set off to tomorrow, but a fitful sleep soon took him.

* * *

 

Neil woke the next morning with the sun in the sky, blinding him as he sat up. He checked his watch - it was a Saturday; the perfect day to run, because it would be a few days before anyone noticed his absence, and even longer until they thought it significant enough to report. By then he could be far enough away that no one from Millport would find him. But it was still early morning, and Neil felt his fingers ache with longing to play with Millport High’s orchestra just once more before he left. There was an 11am rehearsal today, as the school refused to sacrifice any sports practices for them to rehearse on a weekday. He could leave after that, Neil told himself. It was only a few more hours, and last night he had made himself so visible that surely someone would notice he wasn’t there. He had to go, really, even if it was so that nobody was alerted to his absence.

He knew it was a bad idea, but he left the house with his violin in hand. As he made his way through the school parking lot, Neil noticed a black car that he’d never seen before, parked in the far corner. It put him on edge, but he carried on through the double doors to the music building anyway. He could leave through the back of the school and cut through the woods if he had to. Neil was too preoccupied with the sadness he felt at having to leave Millport and what he had come to think of as _his_ orchestra behind. In retrospect, he would realise that this was a mistake.

The rehearsal passed much too quickly for Neil’s liking. He tried to allow himself to enjoy it, but there were too many distractions: Betsy approaching him yesterday, the escape plan he still didn’t quite have in place, and - more increasingly as the rehearsal went on - the feeling that someone else was watching him. Neil resisted the urge to turn in his chair and check behind him, but his thoughts were drawn to that black car in the parking lot. He hoped it was Betsy again, much as he distrusted her. Neil knew all too well what other kinds of people showed up in black cars.

They still had twenty minutes left when Hernandez indicated for them to stop as there was a sharp knock at the door. Neil was sitting at the wrong angle to see who it was, but he didn’t have to wait long. After speaking a few words to the faceless stranger - strangers? - Hernandez met his eye and motioned for Neil to come to the door. Heartbeat overwhelmingly loud in his ears, Neil went over and Hernandez let him out into the hall before going back it to continue his rehearsal. Betsy stood in the corridor, an irritatingly serene smile on her face, along with a man who seemed her complete opposite - frown lines were etched into his unsmiling face, but he seemed immediately more open to Neil, as though he really was who he said he was. He hadn’t gotten the same vibe from Betsy, but that didn’t mean that either of them were trustworthy. The man held a sheaf of papers in his hand, which was puzzling, but Neil didn’t dwell on it.

“What do you want?” Neil asked, intending to stall for time while trying to figure which way out of the school would be fastest and least likely to trap him in a corner. He hated to leave his violin behind, but there was no helping that now.

“David Wymack,” the man said as way of introduction. “I conduct the Palmetto State Youth Orchestra. Betsy told me she’d seen you last night and flew me out here straight away.” That didn’t sound promising to Neil, and he tried to disguise his urge to run by tapping a foot against the ground. He would run past them, and through the back doors to the music department, he thought, because although Wymack was broad Neil didn’t expect he would be fast enough to grab him. “I’ll put this simply. We need you at Palmetto State. Betsy might’ve said, but we need some more _talented_ violinists. There’s a full music scholarship we can offer you.”

Neil paused, as though to consider it, but he knew what his answer had to be. “I can’t. I’m not going to college,” he said abruptly. Wymack looked him up and down.

“I said it’s a full scholarship, kid. You won’t have to pay for any of it.” Neil knew the assumption Wymack had made, based on his scruffy clothes and the posture he’d adopted over time, only helped along by his height; small, nondescript, as though he would rather not exist. He thought he was too poor to go to college. While this was true, Neil had never been allowed to consider it as an option mainly because no one who had ever been successful at running from their past had lived in the same place for four years.

“I’m not going to college,” he repeated. “But thanks.” Neil made to go back to the rehearsal, not wanting to humour the pair any more in case they got the wrong idea, but Wymack grabbed his arm. Neil flinched, hard, on instinct. No man had touched him that hard in a very long time, but a shock of fear still passed through him. Neil regained his composure quickly, but he noticed the way Wymack’s eyes softened and he released Neil immediately.

“C’mon, kid,” he tried again, but his tone was different this time. “If staying here in the summer is a problem we can fly you out to South Carolina early, and Betsy says you clearly love your music. Think about it.” Neil couldn’t believe he was actually considering this. His face must have betrayed him, because Wymack held the papers out to him. “Hernandez can send these over if you change your mind. Dorms won’t open until August, but you can crash at mine until then. I’ll be seeing ya soon, I hope.”

Neil went back to the rehearsal, with all eyes on him as he entered and sat down again. He couldn’t focus on the music any more, though, slipping time and time again on easy phrases. The possibility of college, of _collegiate music_ , was swirling round in his brain. It wouldn’t be too public, surely, and a place to stay and free education was difficult to pass up. His survival instincts reminded him how suicidal it was to stay in the same place for too long, let alone four years, but he found himself looking over the scholarship papers as the other kids packed up after rehearsal. All of his information was already filled out in a vaguely familiar hand, the only mistake being his sex marked as male. Neil considered it briefly, cursing the form writers for not considering a ‘gender’ option instead, and decided that he didn’t want to be dumped in a dorm full of girls. He scribbled his signature on the line before he could change his mind, and handed Hernandez the paperwork wordlessly as he left.

Neil thought he could feel the man’s gaze on him all the way back to his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !! welcome to my potential disaster of a fic !! this idea has just been poking me for a few days so i thought i'd try it out even though i have had exactly zero success in writing long fics in the past. although i've actually planned this one (gasp) so it's already more promising than anything else i've done. tbh this is going to be very british and very strings based because i know nothing about america or any other instruments (i'm not even a violinist myself so this may just be horrible to read if you are, if i mess anything up please tell me!! love that Constructive Criticism)  
> also! a lot of the pieces neil plays in this are going to be what i've done in my own orchestra because i wouldn't be able to go into that much detail about them otherwise, but they are all real pieces!! i'm going to link them at the end of each chapter so you can hear what he's playing if you want !!
> 
> Bach Brandenburg concerto no. 3 in G major (just imagine it without the harpsichord (i hope thats what it is or im an idiot) and with more strings and less baroque-looking) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLj_gMBqHX8
> 
> Oblivion by Astor Piazzolla (Neil's solo, also the name of the fic because im an unimaginative shit, sorry this recording sounds a bit clinical and emotionless but i couldn't find any that weren't crunchy or just generally worse. it's beautiful in real life believe me) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bipphjsFcJg  
> (if anyone is particularly interested this 2 cellos version is Stunning but probably not what neil's high school orchestra is doing with it) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8KmjzQs0x4)
> 
> The other Piazzolla piece mentioned briefly was Libertango ! again this is a weird recording & much too slow in my opinion but have it anyway. it has some fun cello parts and Ellie is enjoying herself - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJ2VAoOd-5s
> 
> anyway !! kudos or comments would be v nice but not hugely necessary !! thank u for reading and have a nice day :)


	2. Chapter 2

Neil graduated high school at the end of May. University dorms would be open to him in early August, as there was a music program starting a few weeks before the regular classes. Until September, the only people on campus would be musicians and athletes, but Neil didn’t mind that; it gave him a little more time to get used to his terrible idea. He spent his summer mostly inside - it was too hot to do much, and he could access running water from the tap outside, so he only left once in a while to get food. Occasionally he wished that he’d taken the conductor - Wymack - up on his offer to leave for Palmetto State as soon as he finished school, because spending an entire month alone did wonders to increase the frequency of his panic attacks. He was reminded of how suicidal this venture was every time his gaze caught Mary’s viola case gathering dust in the corner; it went against everything his mother had taught him about survival, and he heard her voice in his head repeating those crucial lessons. _No friends, no familiarity, and if you see or hear anything suspicious, run._ He had tried to pick the viola up once, to play it for the first time in over two years, but he couldn’t bear the waves of guilt that washed over him at what he was about to do. _Remember, Abram, we don’t make a home anywhere._ He thought about leaving often, skipping town and just avoiding South Carolina forever, but deep down he knew he couldn’t do it. If he ran now, there was no way he could risk playing again, and that was even more unthinkable than college.

Neil tried to ignore the way his hands shook as he left his house in Millport for the last time, carrying all his earthly possessions. He didn’t own enough to warrant buying a suitcase, but at the airport he grudgingly left his instruments as checked baggage - with his knives tucked into the lining of each case. He knew that the knives were too short to be picked up by scanners, and both cases had locks, but still Neil fervently hoped that no one would look inside too closely. The last thing he needed was to lose his livelihood, but there was no safer option, and he wouldn’t go anywhere completely unarmed.

Mary and Neil had a fair amount of experience with airports - though they never travelled through the same one twice - so he knew what he had to do, much as he hated it. He found a bathroom with stall doors and switched out his binder for a couple of layered sports bras, as this way he had less of a chance of the scanners picking up his less-than-traditional body shape. He made it through security without getting picked up, and the rest of his journey passed easily.

Wymack had promised that there would be someone waiting to collect him when Neil arrived in South Carolina, but he realised belatedly that he didn’t know who was coming or what they looked like. No one met his eye or held up a name card for him as he came through the arrivals room, so he went in search of a bathroom. He made his way over to the sign on the other side of the hall, but someone stepped into his path. Neil tensed as the man looked him up and down. He was several inches shorter than Neil, with bright blonde hair and a bored expression. He wore all black, including black bands that covered his forearms from wrists to elbows.

“A binder would do the job better,” the stranger said finally, and Neil felt an unfamiliar anger. He assumed this was who Wymack had sent to pick him up, and Neil doubted that he would be able to keep his secret for long. It wasn’t immediately dangerous, but it was annoying, and he would have to keep tabs on the situation.

“I have one,” Neil said, and tried to go around his grumpy obstacle to the bathroom, but apparently he was having none of it.

“No time, Josten. Let’s go.” Frustration welled up inside Neil as he followed the man to his car, but he got the impression that trying to argue wouldn’t get him anywhere. A click of the car keys opened the trunk, and Neil laid his instruments in the back carefully before climbing into the passenger seat with his bag under his feet. Neil didn’t know much about cars, but this one seemed confusingly expensive to belong to a college student. He didn’t question it though; neither of them made any attempt at conversation at first, and Neil prepared himself for a quiet journey, but soon enough the driver glanced over at him and asked, “isn’t two violins a little unnecessary?”

“One’s a viola,” Neil explained. “I didn’t want to leave it behind.” There was no need to elaborate any further, because the man hadn’t asked anything else, and the two upheld a stony silence for around twenty minutes, until they drove down into the underground parking lot attached to an apartment building. Neil didn’t hear the click of the keys, but the trunk of the car opened as he got out. He retrieved his instruments and slung the violin over his shoulder along with his rucksack.

“This way,” his driver said shortly, and Neil followed him to the elevator. They were heading up to the seventh floor, and as the doors closed he felt a little claustrophobic. The shorter man’s hand reached for his viola case, and Neil backed away instinctively, realising too late that he just wanted to back Neil into a corner.

“So,” he drawled, the disinterested expression he wore entirely at odds with his mischievous, questioning tone, “what’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal,” Neil said, maybe a little too quickly, as he glanced at the elevator display. They were only at the second floor. The other man noticed him looking and waved a hand in front of his face. “It’s polite to look at people when they’re talking to you. And to answer their questions. Why do you look like a rabbit in the headlights?”

“Something you should know about me is that I’m not polite,” Neil said, staring pointedly away. He probably shouldn’t have been so deliberately antagonistic, but Neil wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated by someone who hadn’t even bothered to volunteer his name. The stranger gave a low chuckle. “Oh, you might just be interesting,” he said, his tone uninterpretable to Neil, and a moment later the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Neil exited first, and headed for the single open door out of the three on that floor. He thought he recognised Wymack’s voice, raised in a discussion or an argument with someone else.

“He’s going to traumatise the poor kid before he even gets to his dorm! I specifically told you to go,” Wymack spoke to the man in front of him as Neil entered, followed by the driver. There were two others in the room; a dark haired man lounging on the couch, and someone sitting on the floor near him, both watching an Exy game on the TV. Neil realised with a start that he was the spitting image of the man who had driven him here, though he was missing the armbands. Identical twins.

“Hey, Neil’s here! I’m Nicky. Man, I can’t believe no one told me you were so cute.” The man who spoke was the one Wymack had been arguing with: tall, with dark skin and dark hair. His eyes sparkled as he looked Neil up and down. The man on the sofa sent Nicky a death glare.

“Stick to hitting on your own section, Nicky.”

“C’mon, Kevin, how many male viola players do you know?” Kevin thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“Exactly.” Nicky looked smug for a moment, then continued to Neil, “that’s Kevin. He doesn’t give a shit about anything except his music and Exy, so don’t take it personally. Andrew drove you here, and his lookalike is Aaron.” Aaron looked up and gave Neil and acknowledging glance, then went back to watching the game.

Wymack frowned at them all, and addressed Neil. “Welcome to Palmetto State, Neil. These _idiots_ are my strings section leaders. I was hoping they’d make an effort to be nice to the new kid, but I obviously thought much too highly of them. You’ll be rooming with Seth and Matt - Seth should be back tomorrow, but ask Matt to show you around.” He dug in his jeans pocket and fished out a set of keys, which he passed over. The metal felt unexpectedly heavy in Neil’s hands. “Those are yours. I’ve put one for the practice rooms on there too, in case you can’t wait for term to start. Now get out of here, all of you. Nicky, show him around.”

Neil waited for the group to get up and leave. As Kevin stood and made for the door, Neil noticed the limp in his step and the tattoo on his face, and realised who he was. Kevin Day, violinist and _ex-junior Exy champion_ , destined for the national Court before he badly broke his leg in a skiing accident a year ago. Neil vaguely followed the sport and had played as a backliner in Baltimore, but more than that, he knew the poorly kept secret of Kevin’s injury. Despite the official statement from Kevin’s team, it wasn’t an accident - his adoptive brother, Riko, had attacked him in a fit of jealous rage when it became clear that Kevin’s talent far surpassed his own. The epiphany brought a sick fear to Neil’s stomach. Riko’s family, the Moriyamas, would surely be keeping a close eye on Kevin in case he was ever able to return to Exy, which struck a little too close to home for Neil; the Butcher of Baltimore had been known to work with the Moriyama crime family in his time. Neil should have known this was too good to be true, his father’s men had found him somehow and set up an elaborate trap -

“Josten.” Neil startled to one of the twins’ hands waving in his face, and realised that he’d been staring at Kevin.

“Uh, sorry,” he stumbled. “You’re Kevin Day.” He intended to pass off his daze as a starstruck fan, but it had been the wrong thing to say, and the vibe of the group darkened immediately.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Kevin snapped, and his eyes were thunderstorms. Neil shook his head in answer, and the group left in an awkward quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys ! i hope u enjoyed this even though nothing really happens...i originally had wanted it to be longer but i'm really busy at the moment. the next chapter might take a while too but when im home again the updates will be more regular !  
> anyway !! the monsters are here !! yes, i AM internally screaming at Neil just leaving his instruments to be thrown around by the baggage people. poor kid doesn’t know any better. i hope he learns. lets just hope the cases are well padded.   
> (a tiny thing if u read the first chapter of this before: i changed neil’s birth name to natalia wesninska, because some slavic surnames change a tiny bit with gender and i just thought that natalia looked better than natalie)


End file.
